


Lick it!

by Maracuya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bets & Wagers, Bromance, F/M, Humor, Innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 11:39:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5162531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maracuya/pseuds/Maracuya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first evening out with his best friend Addam gets somewhat out of hand (and I guess the pun is intended...) for convalescent Jaime.</p><p>"M" just because of the innuendo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lick it!

He and Addam were having a glorious evening. The best one in ages. To be precise: the best one since Jaime had lost his hand. Well, it was also the first one since then that alcohol was playing a part again.

At first, Jaime had simply wanted to get his old childhood friend pickled with Arbor gold in this old, comfy pub in the old city centre of King's Landing... but somehow, he himself had ended up drinking wine, too. And now, his own head felt fluffy on the inside, because he wasn't used to drinking anymore. It made reminiscing about childhood memories even better.

 

“Do you remember when you placed this dung bomb in your auntie Genna's shoes?” Addam asked.

Jaime slapped his thigh.

His friend went on: “Or when you strewed rosehip seeds onto the seat of the privy and my father's backside was itching like wildfire when he came back from his drunk private session?”

Jaime had tears in his eyes.

“Baaaahahaha, I'll never forget it! Priceless. To good for words. But when you exchanged my father's ink with an oil-chicken-blood mix you had concocted in the measter's chemistry lesson – I swear I was close to peeing my pants. And I still can't decide whether from glee or fear. I thought father would rip off your head!”

 

Addam chuckled and pinched the ridge of his nose in an attempt to get a grip on himself again.

“Aaaah, the good old times! What a pity we grow serious and more responsible with age.”

“Pfffft!” Jaime slurred. “Responsibility is a word that doesn't belong into my vocabulary. You can still count on me as your partner in crime.”

 

There was a glint in Addam's eyes then.

“You think so? Would you prove it?”

Jaime held up his left hand and grinned.

“On my oath, which isn't worth much.”

“Har!” Ser Addam exclaimed. “In that case I dare you to... dare you to...”

His befuddled mind tried to come up with a good idea.

“Well?” Jaime teased his friend, almost smirking around his head.

 

Ser Addam pointed with his finger into the air.

“I dare you to lick the mailbox of the woman who saved you when your hand was cut off!”

Jaime knitted his brows.

“You mean this wench, Brienne of Tarth?”

“Yeah, that one. Do you know where she lives?”

“Sure. Just around the corner. Only I'm surprised I should lick her mailbox, of all women.”

Addam cocked his head.

“Didn't you give her a sword as a thank you present when you heard she's into medieval re-enactment? If you've given her your sword, you can also lick her mailbox.”

 

Jaime's inebriated mind tried to ponder this for a moment.

“Sound's fair. One strongwine for the way?”

“Deal!”

 

Outside, the fresh air hit them as if it were a club, and the two swayed heavily. They decided to call a cab, first for the short way to Brienne of Tarth's apartment, then further to Lannister mansion in the government district.

Five minutes later, they arrived at the picturesque apartment house where the woman lived who had helped him when Jaime had lost his hand.

 

In the dying light of the day, Jaime tottered over to the various mailboxes, singled out the wench's, hesitated... then bent forward and licked the lid.

 _“Fourty-three, fourty-four...,”_ he counted inwardly and squinted back at Addam.

His friend, who was leaning against the cab, was nearly pissing himself with glee and made strange gestures.

With a sudden weird feeling in his guts that had nothing to do with alcohol, he looked up, then teetered, landed on his arse... and gazed at Brienne of Tarth, who was standing wide-eyed in the entrance of the house.

 

Jaime had never been much of a blusher, but he decided that now was a good moment to change that.

He waved with his stump.

“Hi there, wench, how are you?” he offered. “I've just passed a test of courage. Addam wanted me to lick your lid... I mean: your mailbox.”

 

Brienne's face became increasingly clouded.

“You're drunk! Stupid man. If you can do anything you can lick my – ”

“Oh, yes, any time! With growing enthusiasm,” Jaime shot back.

Now it was the wench who flushed scarlet. She turned on her heels and slammed the door shut.

 

Jaime had some trouble to stand up again, but finally, he was successful.

When he arrived back at the cab, he said to his friend Addam: “Can't help myself, but this whole licking concept has made me hungry.”

He looked at the house and saw a curtain move on the first floor – and a big shadow behind the drapes.

 

Addam clapped him on the back and slurred: “I think your only option is the ice-cream parlour on the way to your home. With me as your escort.”

Jaime licked his lips in such a way that it could be seen from afar.

“I fear you're right, though you're as good a crony as one can hope for. Tonight I'm in for a zombie cup, then – but somehow, I get the feeling that there will be an opportunity with a much sweeter menu.”

**Author's Note:**

> The one-shot is based on a prompt I've found on Tumblr: “my friend told me lick your mailbox on a dare and when i went to do the dare you were leaving the house to get your mail but i didn’t notice so now you’re staring at me as i lick your mailbox” au -- prompt by caprxgers
> 
> One of my few exceptions, because I normally don't like modern AUs . Like in 98-99% of the cases.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own my works of fanfiction/fanart. I do not profit from the stories or drawings, nor would I  
> ever seek to do so. All credit for characters, plot and settings go to the respective original author or artist.


End file.
